Thoughts on faith, musings on Scripture, sermons from Falls Church Presbyterian Church, plus sermons and postings from "Pastor James," my blog while pastor at Boulevard Presbyterian in Columbus, OH.
(Note to FCPC members: this blog is meant for a wider audience than just FCPC. The things discussed here usually speak of the larger church and not FCPC in particular.)

Podcast

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Sermon: The Jesus Pub

Luke 15:1-10

The Jesus Pub

James SledgeSeptember
15, 2013

A
few weeks ago, Shawn and I decided to take a little getaway, and so we headed
up to Gettysburg. We got there in the afternoon and decided to walk around a
bit in the town. By the end of our walk it was past supper time, and so we
looked for somewhere to eat, nothing fancy, just a place to eat. We peeked into
a few places as we passed by and finally settled on a place right on the
square.

It
was called the Blue & Gray Bar and Grill, so it obviously catered to tourists.
We didn’t want to wait for a table, so we grabbed a couple of seats at the bar
which turned out to be populated more by locals. They seemed to be regulars,
carrying on a lively conversation with the folks working behind the bar.

I’m
not sure if it’s because of alcohol, or simply the nature of bars, but we
eventually found ourselves included in the lively conversation. There wasn’t really
anything in the way of formal introductions, but somehow we ended up as just a
couple more in the fellowship at that end of the bar.

A
few years ago the New York Times travel section had a piece on the pubs of
Oxford, England. In the intro it said, “A good pub is a ready-made party, a
home away from home, a club anyone can join.”[1] I
think that applies to a lot of bars, too, and Shawn and I experienced a bit of
that “ready-made party, club anyone can join” feel in Gettysburg.

Jesus
apparently gives off a very similar vibe, a “ready-made party, club anyone can
join” feel that, well, gets the religious folks’ noses bent out ofjoint. For some reason, religious people
often think unkindly about bars. Sometimes it’s an objection to alcohol, but it’s
also a suspicion about people who frequent bars. Bars can have their share of
unsavory sorts, and bars tend not to be judgmental places. Most anyone is
welcome.

But
Jesus is a religious person. Followers call him Rabbi, and he is teaching about
how to live as God wants us to live. So what’s with the bar vibe? Why is he
hanging out with and embracing these folks who’ve not seen the inside of a
church in years? Why is he having a beer and a burger with them like they were
his best buddies?

Religion
almost always brings out boundary setting tendencies in us humans. We
Presbyterians are not as big on it as some, but we still like things “decently
and in order.” Technically, you’re supposed to be baptized in order to have a
drink and a bite at this table, though we tend to ignore that rule here. And
living in an age when style often trumps substance, we Christians have created
a lot of style boundaries. Some Christians wouldn’t be caught dead in an
establishment that didn’t have an organ and choir singing Bach, while others
wouldn’t think of going in a place that didn’t have a band and a screen with
video clips. And both groups often look down their noses at the other.

When
Jesus hears that, “What in the world is he doing hanging out with them?” complaint, he does what
he so often does. He tells some stories, ones that are favorites with a lot of
Christians. There are actually three: the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the
lost son, better known as the parable of the prodigal son. The first two are clearly
a pair, but the story of the prodigal is meant to go with them, and it
forcefully raises a question implied in the first two, whether we religious
sorts will join in the partying that goes on whenever a lost one is found.

Given
that these parables are, in part, meant to skewer religious sorts, it might
seem odd that they have become such favorites in the church, the very place
where religious types tend to hang out. But I suppose that most all of us have
felt lost on occasions. At times, some of us may have lost faith, even felt
like we lost God, and it is comforting to hear that at precisely such times we
become the object of God’s searching. As one writer puts it, “To those whose
lost object is faith itself, these parables whisper that losing faith—that is,
becoming like the tax collector and sinner rather than the Pharisee and
scribe—is to have wandered into the place where one can be found.”[2]
Into the Jesus Pub perhaps?

But
in those times when Christians act more like religious insiders, when church
congregations are more like private clubs than bars or pubs, then Jesus’
parables speak a very different message. God is more concerned with the
outsider than the insider. The heavenly party really gets going, the
celebration truly kicks off at the divine pub, when the outsiders arrive, when
the lost are found, when the estranged return. And in the last of Jesus’ three
stories, the parable of the prodigal, the good, dutiful, religious, older
brother is standing outside as the party begins, unable or unwilling to join
the festivities.

Indeed
the party seems at the heart of these parables. When the lost become found a
party is required, one that heaven itself can’t wait to join, even if the
religious folk aren’t so sure. Scott Bader-Saye writes, “So salvation consists
not purely or even primarily in rescue, but in being drawn into the eternal
celebration. For the Pharisees (and for every critical, nay-saying voice in the
church) the question becomes, ‘Who are you ready to party with?’ If the answer
is ‘We don’t party,’ or ‘We don’t party with them,’ then those righteous ones
will have ceded to the pub the role of parable of the kingdom.”[3]

I
saw something on Facebook the other day that perhaps says it better. We’ve
gotten it backwards. We do not bring the lost sheep to God. The lost sheep
bring God to us.”

Many
have heard the line, “The Church is a hospital for sinners, not a museum for
saints," generally attributed to Pauline Phillips, better known as Dear
Abby. I don’t know how much time you’ve spent around hospitals, but the waiting
area at many, especially the emergency rooms, often contains an interesting
cross section of folks. People come because they are hurting and in need. It
makes for an eclectic mix not usually seen in worship services, but one you might
find in some bars or pubs.

Jesus
seems to think that the church should look more like a hospital or a bar, even
if that annoys the good, religious folks of his day to no end. Two thousand
years later, we in the church still struggle to give off the hospital or pub
vibe that Jesus did, but that’s not to say that we aren’t working at it.
Welcome Table and Ives House do bring a much a much more varied group, and the
expansion of Welcome Table means that’s happening more often. I have great
hopes that our expanded youth program will help us to become a place where
young people from outside the congregation can connect with God and God’s love.
And the development of a second worship service says, “We’d like you to join
us, even if your musical tastes and worship style are not exactly the same as
ours.

I’m
convinced that the Spirit is at work in all this, that a divine calling is
moving us to continue becoming the community Jesus wants us to be, a community
that is not only open to all but that reaches out to all.

I
know that this call has touched the hearts of a core of leaders here, and I
hope and pray that it is beginning to touch the hearts of all of us, for I do
think it is God’s call. We will know soon enough if most of us have felt this
call. Jesus says, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” I’m
pretty sure that works both ways, and if large numbers of us are sensing God’s
call, it will show up in our giving and in our stewardship responses.

There
is something incredibly exciting about hearing a call from God, about
discovering you are an integral part of something that God is up to. I know
that in my own life, I have never felt more alive than when I have been deeply
aware of God’s call in my life. And I have never felt as listless, bored,
unfocused, and rudderless as when that is missing. That is why I so hope that
you will sense this call, that we will join together as we seek to model more
and more the new day Jesus proclaims, the great banquet, that remarkable,
heavenly party where people come from east and west, north and south, from
every walk of life and every conceivable background, from all the places,
groups, biases, and viewpoints that so often divide us, to that eternal, cosmic
party that cranks up a little bit more every time one more person is found by
God’s love.